Grasping Fire
by Astheal
Summary: "She'd been burned, that was for sure, and here they were offering her a fire that was just a different color. It'd be a while before she reached out to take true hold." Introspective fic set directly after the episode Turn Of The Rogue. Rogue contemplates her decision to throw her lot in with the X-Men. Headcannon piece, don't mind me.
1. Chapter 1

Hey there, internet. Not much to this story, but I wrote it so I figured I might as well share it. I'm one of those people who believes in the parent/child relationship between Rogue and Logan, but while the series does certainly hint at it, it isn't as developed as I'd like it to be. So, this is basically the first in a series of headcannons put to words about the off-camera moments between Rogue and Logan. This particular one takes place directly after "Turn of the Rogue" and before "Spyke Cam." Mostly just an introspection piece, so don't expect a great deal of excitement. Other than that, enjoy!

* * *

Late fall rattled the leaves with a bitter wind. Winter was coming; it had been well on its way for weeks now. The mountains were already deep with snow, but the lower places were still free of more than a little morning frost, a frost that was gone when the sun rose.

There were no clouds tonight; the stars glittered coldly and the air was as sharp as a knife when he left the warmer climate of his room for the balcony outside of it. Logan inhaled deeply, so deeply that his throat hurt with the sudden chill. Jolts of electricity laced through his veins, and when he exhaled he couldn't bite back a satisfied growl. The bitter season lingered so heavily in the wind he could taste it, even while the world had yet to touch it. The cold wind around his bare arms felt like the hand of an old friend, and he let out a satisfied huff as he made his way to the roof with motions made smooth by habit.

The fires inside had been put out long ago, but the scent of wood smoke still clung to the chimneys as he wove his way between them. The Professor had a way of rubbing off on people, even when they didn't realize it; anywhere else, he wouldn't have given a damn where he smoked, but ever since arriving at the institute he'd had to wrestle with a very strange new desire: the desire to set an _example._ The Wolverine snorted to himself. If anyone out of his past saw him this soft, anyone at all, he'd never be able to live it down.

He took his time unwrapping the cigar; it'd been far, far too long since he'd indulged himself, and he wanted to stretch this moment out for as long as it was worth. And it was just as he had clamped down and lit his ever-so-carefully-hidden treasure that he caught another scent.

Makeup, and too much of it. Leather boots meant for function but used as fashion. Tears.

Curious, the Wolverine angled towards the source. He never forgot a scent, and this particular one was a scent he had gotten accustomed to in the last few hours, at least enough to instantly recognize who it was. She sat against another chimney, legs pulled up to her chest and chin on her knees. She was facing the east, away from him, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She hadn't noticed him.

For a bit, he simply watched her. Her breathing was light, but a bit ragged. She'd been crying. She didn't move, not at the wind, not at the cold, not at anything. She simply sat and watched the thin sliver of the moon crawl its way past the horizon. From the smell of it, she'd been out here for hours. Probably hadn't gone to bed.

In the end, he knew it was going to be his smoke that would give him away. Even so, he didn't move to put out his cigar. He's been waiting a long time for this, and dammit, he was going to enjoy it. She raised her head, sniffed, turned, then gasped and jerked back a few inches when she caught sight of his shadow.

"I—I—I didn't… I know I'm not—I didn't mean—I'm sorry, I—"

Logan shrugged noncommittally and took another draw on the cigar, and when no outward anger came from him then her stuttering half-explanations slowed down. When they came to a proper halt, Logan took the cigar from his mouth.

"Look, kid, ain't my business why you're here."

"What?" she blinked at him for a moment, as if she wasn't quite sure if he'd actually said what he'd said. "Look, I wasn't doin' anythin' up here. I just… just couldn't sleep, and…"

She trailed off, and in the silence Logan made an easy meander to take a seat on the point of the roof a few yards away.

"Ain't my business what you do on your own time. Tell you what: you don't tell the Prof I'm breakin' his smokin' policy, and I don't tell him you were here to see me break it. Sound good?"

She examined him for a moment, then warily nodded and settled back against the chimney. "Yeah, okay."

He nodded with a grunt and stuck the cigar back in his mouth, turning towards the front of the property. A wind kicked up, shaking the trees even louder than before and then dying down just as quickly. He could feel her eyes on him, but didn't react or even make an indication that he was aware of it. In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the Rogue that had fallen into the money-lined lap of the X-Men, and he was damn sure she didn't know what to make of him, either. She seemed to have recovered well from the scrap in the mountains, despite having fallen into a river wearing almost nothing but cotton, but she'd been quiet. Hell, she hadn't said anything on the ride back, and he suspected the only reason she'd begun talking at all was when Charles had put her on the spot in the whole Mystique conversation. God knew why the hell Charles would board her up with Kitty, who seemed incapable of shutting up.

"You come up here often?"

Logan shifted enough to bring her out of his peripherals and into his vision proper. "Every now an' then. Gets crowded inside."

"Yeah, I guess it would." She pulled her knees up to her chest. "Can't be any worse where I was, though."

"That place Mystique had you all shacked up in?"

She jumped at the mention of Mystique, but gathered herself. "Yeah. Better than that."

There was finality to her voice, and he could almost see her switch off from their conversation. He knew when someone didn't want to talk, and he wasn't the kind of person to push an unwanted subject. So he just settled into a more comfortable position and continued to puff away at his cigar.

Rogue was different, that was for sure. She'd be an interesting addition to the lineup. The others, they all had a certain innocence… no, that wasn't the right word… _inexperience_ that made them exactly what they deserved to be: kids. But he'd been around enough to see how people worked, and he knew that Rogue worked differently than them. This was the second time in what, five weeks that she'd been taken out of anything resembling a home and just dropped into another? He knew well enough that Scott had felt accomplished when the Rogue had decided to throw her lot in with them, but he'd be disappointed if he expected her to cozy on up to them just like that. She'd been burned, that was for sure, and here they were offering her a fire that was just a different color. It'd be a while before she reached out to take true hold.

"Kitty's loud."

Logan couldn't help an amused snort. "Get used to it, kid. We all got our quirks, and trust me when I say the Half-Pint don't shut up for nothing."

"Wonderful. The others like that, too?"

Logan grunted again. "The elf, a bit. Not quite as much. But he's a 'porter, so he can get places he shouldn't. Likes to pop in front of people. If you're walkin', you can kick 'im in the shins and blame it on him an' see if it gets him to stop."

He didn't look, but he felt the ghost of a smile pass over her.

"Doesn't sound too bad, though."

Logan shrugged. "No, it isn't." He took another draw and let it out slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night and eventually disappear entirely. "And compared to some of the things out there, it ain't a huge price to pay for safety."

_Safety._ The word stood out even after he'd said it and lingered in the air between them. Then she had switched off again, retreating back into herself and returning to silence. Logan sighed and stirred, not willing to let this one be.

"Look, kid, you've got a lot more problems than you deserve. I ain't gonna lie to you and say that it's easy here; we've all got our own problems, and we got our own ways of dealin' with 'em. And you gotta do the same with yours. You can go it solo if you want; may seem weird, but you could walk right outta here an' back to Mystique if you wanted. And if you told us not to follow, we wouldn't. S'your choice. But we don't leave people. This whole mutant thing, it's tough, no matter where you go. It's gonna hurt, and there'll be blood and tears and hidin' until you don't know where you stand. But if you stay, that's something you ain't gonna have to face alone. We got each other's backs, and if you decide to get ours then we'll get yours."

"I know." She rested her chin on her knees, but her eyes were hard despite her words. "I know. I know 'cause I know Kurt an' Scott an' Ororo. I knew 'em when I touched 'em. An' they're still here, tossin' an' turnin' in my head. The powers go, but the minds stay."

"The Prof might be able to help."

"I don't want his help." She looked away. "You've all helped me too much already."

"Fair enough. He won't help if you don't want it. But helpin's what we do. Don't matter if you want to be one of us or not; we'll still help you if you need it."

She turned back and looked Logan full in the eye, searching his gaze. Her eyes were green, he noticed. As green as Red's, he'd wager. After a moment, she broke contact and laughed mirthlessly. "You're serious."

"Damn serious."

Slowly, ever so slowly, a warmth crept into her face. Her eyes crinkled at the edges. Her smile became genuine. She settled her chin back onto her knees, looking off into the distance, and the two fell into a companionable silence.

Another strong wind kicked up, stirring the trees into yet another uproar. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, and a few stray leaves skittered across the asphalt below.

She was the one that finally broke the silence with a sullen "I guess I'll still have to go to school tomorrow."

"You went to school before, didn't you?"

Now it was her turn to snort. "Yeah, but I didn't go to school with _you_ guys."

Logan blinked at her.

"I was shacked up with those others, remember? Toad, Lance an' them?"

Logan grunted in understanding but was cut off by a sudden "Shit!"

"What's the matter?" he asked, removing his cigar.

"Goddamnit, all my stuff's over there."

He blinked, and was halfway to saying "shit" himself before remembering that he had agreed not to curse in front of the students. Logan stood, and Rogue turned to face him fully.

"Where you goin'?"

"To go get it."

"You're joking, right?" But he was already climbing back down the side of the building, so she had to stand herself and trot over to peer over the edge of the roof.

"Shouldn't be too hard," he replied. "They ain't the toughest nails in the box. What are you doing?"

Rogue had begun her own descent, or rather, was trying to mimic the beginning of Logan's.

"Kid, you ain't—left foot, over a little more. Hand hold, to your right. Down."

Then she was just above him, so he had to descend a little more to give her room. She continued the next few feet on her own, so Logan went the full distance to the balcony below them. Looking up, he saw that she was having trouble on a particularly sheer spot.

"There's a crooked brick by your right foot. A little more over. There. Now move your hand to that windowsill."

She followed his directions quickly, and within less than twenty seconds she had joined him on the balcony. He looked her over quickly to make sure she didn't have any injuries, then jumped neatly off the balcony to the ground below. He looked back up to see her gaping at him.

"I'm not jumping," she informed him.

Logan shrugged and walked towards the garage. "Wasn't askin' you to."

"No, wait!"

He stopped and looked back at her. "Kid, you don't gotta follow me. I got'cher scent. I can tell what's yours an' what's not."

"You can't just strut in there and take my stuff!"

"It's late. You just hit the sack an' let me worry about it."

She scowled at him, and before he could say anything more she was swinging her leg over the balcony, inching back onto the wall and crawling down.

"Hey, kid, wait—!"

Her haste betrayed her, and she lost her grip on the wall. Logan managed to catch her before she hit the ground, but his face was pulled into quite a displeased growl as he set her upright.

"What the hell was that?"

She was blushing a bit when she squared up to him, but her face was anything but apologetic.

"Lost my grip."

"Oh, did you now?" he snapped sarcastically. "An' here I thought you were just trying to fly."

"Well, it is a nice night for it, isn't it?" she bit back with equal sarcasm.

"_Listen_, you don't need to help me with this. I can get your stuff back to you in half an hour."

"Says the guy who just lectured _me_ on helpin' others? It's _my_ stuff."

"You almost froze to death earlier today. You shouldn't be out doin' things."

"Weren't you the one that said it wasn't your business what I do on my own time?"

He actually bared his teeth at her this time, but didn't have a retort. She'd trapped him, there, and he didn't like to be trapped. Without much else to say, Logan snarled audibly and turned on his heel. He didn't say yes, but the damn girl took it as one and followed him anyway.

She was still following him by the time they reached the garage. She lingered back a bit, but didn't stop, even when he punched the code into the little pad on the side and the door rattled up. She slowed to give an appreciative glance at the van, an uncertain one at Scott's car, but stopped altogether when she caught sight of where Logan was headed.

"That's yours?"

Logan grunted and swung into the seat with a familiarity only an owner could muster.

"Funny," she said, making him pause in his movement to start it up. "I would've taken you for more of a Harley kinda guy."

He leveled a gaze at her, and she stared straight back, one hand on her hip and one eyebrow arched. Part of her stare was stubbornness, and another part was genuine curiosity. Logan sighed. He didn't think he'd met a teenager so stubborn.

"I am," he finally admitted. "I got one, but it's personal. I don't take my Harley where it could get hurt."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense."

A new silence descended between them, but this one was more uncomfortable than the last. It took a few moments for Logan to decide that he would be the one to break it.

"Look, Stripes, you don't have to come with me. I can get this done and you don't have to worry about it."

"I know." She closed her eyes and took a determined breath. "But… no, I think… I just gotta come with you. I _should_ come with you. I gotta tell the boys. To their faces. It wouldn't be fair for you to just break in and take my things. They might think you kidnapped me or somethin'."

"You sure that's somethin' you're up for?"

She smiled without humor. "Hell no. But I think it's something I still gotta do."

Logan looked her over again. She didn't put up any fronts for him in her effort to convince him to let her come. She didn't try to hide the anxiousness on her face, but didn't try to display it, either; she knew what it was she was asking to get into, and she wasn't sugarcoating it to him or to herself. And that, at least, was something Logan could respect.

He sighed. "You ride?"

She blinked, and then a spark ignited in her eyes for a moment. She smiled nervously and nodded, so Logan moved to give her room on the back of his bike. She climbed on and took the helmet Logan offered her, but paused before putting it on.

"What about you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Don't need it."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it and settled the too-big helmet onto her head.

"Y'good?"

She gave him a thumbs-up, and the motorcycle roared to life.


	2. Chapter 2

In all honesty, Rogue wasn't quite sure what she was doing.

She laughed at her own thoughts; these days, it seemed like she _never_ knew what she was doing.

The wind slid past the black helmet with a dull, constant roar and flattened her clothes against her body. The late fall air made her shiver, reminding her that these were currently her only clothes and that she _needed_ her things. She had considered letting the Wolverine—no, Logan, that was what she was supposed to call him now that they were on the same side—letting Logan do as he said and just getting her stuff for her. Following him hadn't really been a thought-out decision, and now that she was here, with him, on her way back home—no, not home, that wasn't her home anymore, and that was just as scary as anything else that had happened to her today—now that she was on her way to the place she had been living for the better part of two months, she couldn't fight back the cold sweat breaking over her. This was it. This was what would seal her fate. When she took her belongings out of that house, she would never go back.

Oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't go back anyway.

They pulled onto the long, trash-ridden street and Rogue tapped on Logan's stomach, gesturing to the side. He pulled over and cut the engine.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"I… no," Rogue stuttered, pulling off the helmet. "But, um, I… I was thinkin' that maybe I should go get it myself? People don't come round here much, and I don't think they'd take too kindly to the Wolverine pullin' a motorcycle into their driveway."

He turned to give her a level look.

"Y'know, Mystique might've already told them."

Right to it. Rogue winced in spite of herself. "Yeah, I know that. I just… look, I don't know. But I don't wanna just, y'know, show up on the back of an X-Man's bike and ask for my stuff. I don't think they'd like that too well, and I don't want another tangle. Not today."

Logan shrugged. "Look, kid, it's your stuff. Your choice. You ask me not to follow you, I won't. But things turn ugly, it'll be you against four. Five, if Mystique's there, and she might be."

_If Mystique's there. _That hadn't even occurred to her. Rogue glanced between Logan and the house at the end of the street, suddenly finding herself even more nervous than she had been before.

"I…" Rogue gulped. "Do you think you could, er, wait for me?"

Logan nodded. "Whatever you need, kid."

She led out a shuddering breath, then slid off the back of his bike. "Thanks."

"Holler if there's trouble."

"Yeah. I will."

Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her down the darkened asphalt, under the familiar broken streetlight that Toad loved to climb. It struck her that after tonight, she'd probably never see him climbing there again. The house sharpened in her vision as she passed the broken-down sign out front. There was still a light on in the kitchen. Dukes had probably fallen asleep there. Again. As she came nearer to the front door, her mind was whirling. Toad was probably passed out on the couch. Lance was probably in his room. Pietro was probably asleep somewhere else entirely. Or who knew? Maybe he was still awake. It was always a guess with him.

She winced as the steps creaked under her feet. She grasped the doorknob, but for a moment she couldn't force herself to go farther.

This was it. Whatever safety she'd found here, whatever hints of friendship had bound her to these luckless, practically homeless boys was going to end. Here. Tonight. And no matter what the Professor or Scott might say about what safety they might offer her in return, it scared her to let go.

And no matter what Mystique might have said against the X-Men, she knew she'd made her choice. Rogue closed her eyes, steeled herself, and turned the knob.

They'd never gotten a lock for the door, despite how much she and Lance had campaigned for one, but she nearly jumped out of her skin at how loud the hinges were. The floorboards groaned, and the door was much too loud when she closed it. A quick glance into the living room revealed a curled-up Toad who was making a rhythmic noise halfway between a snore and a wheeze, and she could see Dukes slumped over the table in the kitchen, snoring much more loudly.

She tried going up the stairs slowly, but even that didn't do anything to soften the noise that the house never seemed to stop making. By the time she had gotten to the second floor, she gave up on moving slowly altogether. She was close enough to her room anyway, so she squared her shoulders and marched the rest of the way, doing her best to ignore the floor's protests.

Her room remained undisturbed, which she wasn't sure if she should feel surprised about or not. Her rickety bed lay unmade, her clothes were scattered on the floor and her hair brush lay on her dresser. She wasted no time. She wanted to be done with this as soon as possible.

She hadn't packed too much when she'd moved here from Mississippi, and she hadn't bought too much when she'd moved in. All of her new things had been given on Mystique's charity, and she'd been loath to spend what little she had saved up from her old life. All in all, it wasn't too difficult to fit all of her things into her old, beaten-up duffel bag.

"Rogue? That you?"

Rogue whirled. Footsteps were coming down the hallway. She'd left her door open, and after a few moments Lance was peering blearily into her room. She froze under his gaze like a rabbit in headlights, but he seemed too groggy to really notice.

"Where you been?" he mumbled. "Pietro's been all around lookin' for you."

Rogue shifted guiltily. "Didn't need to. I'm fine. Was out on a school trip, s'all."

"School trip?" He leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Right… the geology thing?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Up in the mountains. Got caught in a whiteout."

"Fun. Is the light on downstairs?" The boy leaned back to glance down the hall. "Dammit, did Blob fall asleep in the kitchen again?"

"Yeah, looked like it."

Lance growled and started down the hall. "God damn it, if Mystique catches the light on again she's going to be making _us_ pay for the electricity."

Rogue heard him stomp down the stairs and took a shaky breath. He hadn't noticed her packing. Good. Maybe she could get out of the house without having to explain at all. She didn't want more trouble than she needed. She slung the bag over her shoulder and started down the hall, too. If she went fast enough, she could make it to the door before he began to question what she was doing.

Lance wasn't making any real effort to be quiet, but he also wasn't actively trying to wake Fred as he made his way through the kitchen to the light switch. She was almost to the door, and then—

"Hey Rogue, throw that in the trash, will ya? She'll take our arms off too if she sees more food lying around."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to see Lance gesturing at the half-finished plate of food Dukes had fallen asleep next to. Rogue swallowed and nodded, going about the task as efficiently and quietly as possible.

"Hey, Rogue…"

Rogue turned.

"… I know you didn't take it, but have you seen my…" Lance blinked, and then he seemed to take in her appearance for the first time. He looked at her bag, then at her face, then back to her bag, then back to her face again.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, tone more than a little confused.

Well, shit.

"Um… yeah. I am."

"This late?"

"Yeah."

"But you just got back."

"Yeah, I, um, needed to get my things."

"Needed to get your things? Where are you going?"

"… out."

He tilted his head, still unsure of what she was saying. "Do you need to go tonight? 'Cause I could give you a ride in the morning…"

"No, I can't." Rogue finished throwing away the food and began to make her way quickly towards the door. "Look, I really gotta go."

"Rogue?" He had followed her, and was watching her fight with the door that had suddenly decided that it wanted to go to sleep, too. She glanced up at him, taking a breath to say something, anything she could to stall, but it died in her throat when their eyes met.

His expression shifted from one thing to the next. Confusion. Curiosity. Turning wheels as he looked at her bag, at how heavily it weighed on her shoulders. Then there was comprehension.

"You're going with the X-Men." His words weren't angry, weren't hurt or cold, weren't even accusational. They just… were. It was a fact lingering in the air, a truth as tangible at the boards beneath their feet. Not hard, but heavy. Final. Rogue could say nothing back.

Lance's face was as void of emotion as his statement. He didn't look disappointed or pained. He didn't even seem relieved. If anything, he just looked… well, she didn't know what it was like. As if this was something he'd expected all along.

He said nothing. She said nothing. There was nothing more to say. Lance didn't nod or shrug. He simply removed his gaze from Rogue's, turned, and went back up the stairs.

Rogue let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. That was it, then. She didn't take any more care to be quiet as she finally forced the door open and stepped back into the brisk air of the night. She was done with this house.

The dark blot of the motorcycle beneath the lamplight was almost a relief. Logan turned at her approach.

"That it?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and gesturing to her bag.

"Yeah. Don't have much to bring."

He grunted and shifted to give her room on the back of the bike. Rogue swung her leg over and settled her arms around his abdomen as the motor revved to life. A strange kind of peace filled her, now that she was leaving. She wasn't the best at making choices, at least she wasn't any better than anyone else, but she wasn't one to let someone else make them for her. She did that herself. And for better or for worse, she'd chosen to walk away from Mystique and her house of tumbleweed mutants. The string had been cut, and there was no going back. She'd deal with the consequences, because that was all she could do now.

And as they pulled out of the street, despite the weight on her shoulders, for the first time in a long while Rogue felt… light.


	3. Chapter 3

Huh. Would you look at that, another chapter. Guess this isn't going to be a twoshot after all.

Barghest: Thankee kindly.

Wizard Flower: Well, seems like that's what's gonna happen. Enjoy.

* * *

Kitty was, in a word, freaked. Sure, being freaked was something she'd gotten used to since moving to the Institute, but that wasn't her usual kind of freaked.

Okay, so she'd had to take a late shower 'cause she'd spent the first part of her night showing Rogue around. She was like, a totally weird girl, but it wasn't like Kitty could really blame her––after all, what would _she_ be like if she had to live with the Brotherhood boys for as long as Rogue had? Anyway, the Professor had asked her to show Rogue around 'cause she was going to be her new roommate, which Kitty was totally psyched about; Jean was nice and all, but she was always off doing her own thing and it's be awesome to have another girl right there to talk to!

So anyway, shower. She'd gone last because she'd taken so long showing Rogue around, and it was really gross because there was _fur_ clogging the drain. She'd have something to say to Kurt tomorrow, alright. She'd taken a quick shower so she didn't need to stay near _that_ for too long, but then she'd gone back to her room. Her _empty_ room.

At first, Kitty wasn't sure if there was something wrong. Had Rogue gone walking around the mansion this late? Kitty had left her in the room when she had gone to take a shower, but… oh no. Was that the window? Open? Like, _way_ open and not how she'd left it before?

Kitty ran to the open window, heart suddenly racing. There was no way… had she… where had she gone? The girl stuck her head out the window, looking back and forth frantically.

"Rogue?" she called. "Hey Rogue?"

No answer.

Crap.

Kitty ran from her room, trying to, er… _think_ as loudly as she could. _Professor! Professor!_

The answer came almost instantly. _Kitty, please try and be a bit quieter. I can hear you. What's wrong?_

_It's Rogue!_ Kitty shouted before really absorbing what the Professor had said and trying to curb her volume. _She's gone! I don't know where, but the window was open, and I think she went out that way, and––_

_Kitty,_ the Professor said, cutting her off, _there is no need for your hysteria. Please calm down._

_But Professor––_

_Kitty._ This time his voice was gentle, and in spite of her panic the young mutant stopped her aimless running and took a breath.

_Come to the kitchen,_ the Professor said. _We can continue the conversation there. Ororo's making tea._

For a moment, Kitty simply stood where she was. The Professor sounded remarkably calm, and that, at least, did something to assuage her nerves. Yeah. Yeah, that sounded good. She took another breath to organize herself and started down the hall again.

The mansion was always creepier at night, and Kitty was relieved to get to the lights of the kitchen. Storm and the Professor were sitting at the kitchen table, conversing lightly, though they halted when Kitty walked in.

Ororo's eyebrows rose. "Kitty?"

"It's alright, Ororo. I'm sure Kitty is simply worried about Rogue tonight. I was the one that invited her down here. Perhaps some tea would help."

Ororo glanced back at the Professor, and a moment of silence passed between them before she nodded.

"I see," she said, forsaking her seat for the kettle on the stove. "Well's there is certainly enough hot water to go around. What would you like?"

Kitty, who wasn't really crazy about tea, shifted awkwardly. "Um… I dunno. Er, like, what is there?"

Both of the adults chuckled and shared a glance.

"How about chamomile?" Ororo offered. "That should help with worry."

"Um, alright."

"Have a seat, Kitty," the Professor said, gesturing to the many chairs around the table. Kitty obliged quietly, but once sitting she couldn't help but fidget.

"Now, please tell me what it is that has so upset you."

"Rogue's gone!" she blurted a bit too loudly. Ororo looked over in surprise, but said nothing. "I mean, uh, I was showing her around, and then I left her in my room, and then I took a shower and when I got back the window was open and she was like, not there!"

The Professor _hmm_ed. "I see," he said, taking a sip from his teacup.

"So, like, what do we do?"

"Do?"

"Aren't we gonna, like, go after her or something?"

The Professor sighed and put the teacup down. "Kitty… this Institute was built as a place of knowledge and teaching. When I discovered the existence of mutants, I built it under the assumption that mutants would one day be revealed to the world. I believe that it is possible for those who possess an advanced x-gene to coexist peacefully with those who do not, and it is this dream that has carried me this far. Peace is what I strive for, and what I hope to inspire my students to strive for.

But true peace is not something that can be forced. Freedom alongside peace is just as important. Above all, I wish for all of my students to make their own choices. When Jean and I first approached you, we said that we would not force you to come here. We wished only to offer you an opportunity and understanding that would be difficult to find elsewhere. Yes, we _wanted_ you to come here, but if, with your eyes open and aware of the choice in its entirety, you had said no, we would have respected your decision."

Kitty nodded. "Yeah, I know that, Professor. And wasn't that, like, why we didn't try to win her over in the first place? After what happened in Mississippi?"

The Professor nodded, then shifted to give Storm enough room to lean over and place a steaming cup of tea in front of Kitty before retaking her previous seat. Kitty picked up the cup and delicately stuck her tongue into it. It wasn't as hot as it looked, so she chanced a mouthful. It wasn't too bad, she decided.

"Indeed. As I have said in the past, new members, Rogue included, must come of their own free will or not at all."

Kitty swallowed. "Yeah, but, like, she _did_ come of her own free will and all that! Right? I mean, with the trip and the snow and the plane and everything? I mean, Scott told us all what happened with Miss Darkh––uh, Mystique, like how Rogue saved his life and everything. That means she's with us now, right?"

The Professor sighed again. "Perhaps. But choices are not often set in stone; they can be changed at a moment's notice. And I have vowed to respect the decisions made by others. I will respect the decisions made by you, or Scott, or any one of my students. And I must respect the decisions made by Rogue. I would never require something of her not freely given, which includes her allegiance. She is free to go where she chooses."

"But–but what if she, like, goes back to the Brotherhood? To Mystique?"

"Then that is her choice," the Professor said firmly. "If she truly wished to return to the life she led before, it would not be within my right to hold her here against her will."

"Well, _yeah_, but what about what Mystique did to her? She can't just go back to someone like that; that wouldn't be fair! I mean, what if she's lied to again, or––"

Professor Xavier held up a hand, cutting the girl off mid-sentence. "Even after everything that transpired between Rogue and Mystique, I cannot decide what the relationship between the two will be. Rogue has been greatly wronged, but she must decide how she wishes to deal with it on her own, and on how to move forward from where she is now."

"But…" Kitty's argument died in her throat. Against that logic, there really wasn't any argument she could make. What _could_ they do? Go after her and drag her back, sit her down and say _you have to be an X-Man now?_ That was even worse than letting her go back to Mystique! But if she _wanted_ to go back to Mystique… was there _anything_ they could do?

"... I just thought…" Kitty's shoulders slumped, defeated. "I thought she would've stayed."

The Professor took another sip of tea. "The human mind is a strange thing, Kitty. I may have a better glass to see through than most, but even I cannot predict where one's thoughts may lead them. You can spend most of your life hearing them, but even then you will find that people, at their deepest levels, will still surprise you."

"Yeah…" Kitty pulled her own tea closer and gulped down another mouthful. It was cooler now, and it actually tasted kind of nice.

"I would not worry too much about Rogue," said Storm, taking her first step into the conversation. "She seems like a very independent young woman. I do not believe she would forget what has happened between her and Mystique. She can take care of herself, and wherever she goes, I think she will be alright."

"Yeah."

"I agree with you Ororo. But…" the Professor gave a meaningful look to Kitty, "... it is getting quite late. And you have school tomorrow, Kitty. I would suggest returning to your room and getting some sleep."

"Right…" The young mutant stood gloomily and put the tea on the table.

"You can take it with you," Storm said. "It will help you sleep."

Kitty obediently picked the tea up. "Yeah, okay."

"Goodnight," said the Professor, accentuated with a farewell nod from the weather witch.

"'Night."

The path back to her room seemed much longer that the path from it. Kitty wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to feel; Rogue had seemed like she _liked_ being with the X-Men. Yeah, she had been, like, totally silent for most of the night, but she had been smiling… right? Kitty had actually seen that, hadn't she? Then… _why?_ Why would she go back to Mystique?

It hurt, Kitty realized. Scott had been trying so hard to win Rogue over, it had always been a matter of _when,_ not _if_. It hurt to know that the X-Men weren't good enough. Kitty had been so excited when she saw Rogue sitting in the lounge with Scott and Jean and the adults; the surging feeling of _yes, that looks right_ had almost overwhelmed her; she was finally there! There was a sense of brilliant excitement, at least until the Mystique conversation, but even after that it was back. Man, Kitty had been so happy to have a roommate! Rogue was closer to Kitty's age than Jean, and it had gotten the younger mutant totally wired up for shopping trips and girl-talks and just being a _teenager_ where she didn't have to constantly worry about her powers slipping through. Rogue's arrival had sent her mind soaring, and the fall was so sudden it felt like the wind had been kicked out of her. Just like that, all her excitement was pointless. Useless. It didn't matter. Rogue didn't want any of that, didn't want their friendship, didn't want _them_. And it hurt, and it made Kitty feel more… inadequate than she ever had in her life. Rogue hadn't even given them––given _her_––a chance, and there wasn't going to be any way to convince her to again.

Kitty paused for a moment at her door. The emptiness would be sadder tonight, she thought, pulling her tea closer to her to leech as much warmth as she could. The chilliness outside was starting to get inside the mansion. Her bed suddenly seemed like a good idea; as the Professor had said, she _did_ have school tomorrow. Kitty drained the last of her tea and phased through the door, resolving to bring it downstairs in the morning.

And then she got an eyeful of Rogue undressing.

"What the––hey!" the southern mutant screeched, turning away and pulling her shirt up to cover her chest. "Yer s'pposed to _knock_! I'm _changing!_ I'm… what'cha starin' at me for? I'm _changing!_ Stop it! What's your problem?"

Kitty blinked, mouth agape. "You're… you're here!"

"_Yeah._ And I'm _half-naked._ And stop _starin'_ at me, for Chrissake! Turn around!"

"Oh, uh…" Kitty turned around, hearing an annoyed _harrumph_ from behind her. Rogue was here. Wait, Rogue was here. Rogue was here! _Rogue was here!_

"'Kay, I'm done. Y'know, you shouldn't––what the––!"

Rogue took a few alarmed steps back as Kitty literally _flew at her_ and fastened her arms securely around her torso.

"You're back! I didn't––but––you're back! Oh, wow! I mean… you're _back_!"

"Let go of me."

The steely nature of Rogue's words could do nothing to dampen the million-watt smile stretching across Kitty's face, although she did as she was asked and took a step back. "Sorry, sorry, it's just… you're back! Here!"

"Yeah…?"

"Oh man, this is like, _so totally cool._ I mean, I took a shower and then you were, like, _gone_ when I got back and I thought you'd _left_ to go back to the Brotherhood and I was _worried_ and I told the _Professor_ but he told me to calm _down_ and I was like, 'What if she's, like, gone back to Mystique 'cause that'd be so _sad_' but then he's like 'You can't _do_ anything about it' and I thought you'd _left_ us, but you _didn't_ 'cause you're _here_, and it's like, _amazing!_ I mean, holy crap, you came _back_! Like, where did you even _go_?"

Rogue blinked slowly. "Uh, yeah… sorry about that. I kinda had to go back. T'get my stuff." She gestured at a small duffel on her bed. "Y'know, brushes and clothes and stuff."

Kitty peered at the article of baggage. "_Oh_…" But, wait, that bag looked _really_ small in comparison to all the stuff _she_ had brought from home. "Is that _everything_?"

Rogue cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Like, _all_ of it?"

"Sorry, but I didn't exactly have a lot of time to pack outta Mississippi," Rogue said, voice sharp.

"Oh my god, we are, like, _totally_ going shopping tomorrow. You need _way_ more stuff than that."

"Uh, I don't really have any money…"

"Oh, no problem! My allowance day was yesterday; I'll split it with you!"

"Look, I don't really need––"

"Don't worry, I'm, like, _totally_ fine splitting it. It'll be awesome! We can get you some clothes and shoes and––oh!––maybe––"

_Kitty._

Kitty paused, but Rogue gasped and jumped back wildly, looking for the source of the voice.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Kitty said. "That's just the Professor."

"Th-the Professor?"

_Indeed, Rogue,_ the Professor said to both of them. _There is no need for alarm. I do not read the minds of others unless they allow me to, but it is past midnight. Rogue, if you are finished preparing, perhaps it would be a good idea to get some sleep. You, also, have school tomorrow._

"Oh, um…" Rogue gulped. "I, uh… yeah. I was, erm, just finishing up."

The Professor's mental presence receded, and Kitty heaved a sigh.

"Man, that's lame. But I guess we _are_ up pretty late. Do you want to go shopping tomorrow?"

"Well…"

"Please?"

"I don't know…"

"_Please?"_

Rogue made a noncommittal grunt, looking away. Kitty pulled on her best puppy face, and when Rogue glanced back she gave it everything she had. Victory was won in short order.

"... okay, fine."

"Yes!" Kitty shouted before realizing that it was still nighttime and clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oops."

Rogue actually cracked a smile. It was small, sure, but it was _there_. Kitty couldn't help but grin back between her fingers. Rogue rolled her eyes and turned away, busying herself with clearing her bed of the meager possessions won back from her old home. Kitty, still grinning, moved back to her own bed and slipped under the covers. She waited until Rogue had climbed into her own bed, waved and turned off the light.

"Goodnight, Rogue!"

"G'night."


	4. Chapter 4

WizardFlower: Thankee much, and here you go.

ScruffyLovin: Good to hear! I've always thought the relationship needed more fleshing out, although this seems to be turning into a piece about all of Rogue's relationships.

* * *

Rogue considered herself a rather sensible person. She'd been woken up by alarm clocks in the past. Some of them had been pretty damn loud, too. She had no problem with alarm clocks. Alarm clocks were useful when she needed to wake up early. And she _had_ been expecting to wake up early. See, being woken up by an alarm clock at six in the morning, while a bit unusual in her schedule, wasn't a big problem for her.

Being woken up by Justin Bieber, however, was too far.

"_Oh whoa,_

_Oh whoa,_

_Oh whoa,"_

No. There was no. Goddamn. Way.

"_You know you love me, I know you care,"_

Rogue rolled over in her bed, beating back the grogginess in an attempt to find the source of the noise before it went any farther.

"_Just shout whenever, and I'll be there,"_

No.

"_You are my love, you are my heart,_

_And we will never ever ever be apart."_

Please, no.

"_Are we an item? Girl, quit playing,"_

The bridge neared, and Rogue stuck her head under her pillow.

"_We're just friends, what are you saying?_

_Say there's another and look right in my eyes,"_

Was that Kitty? Singing_ along?_

"_My first love broke my heart for the first time,_

_and I was like..."_

Oh God, please don't do it.

Kitty was already out of bed and actually _turned it up_ as she sang.

"_Baby, baby, baby oooh,_

_Like baby, baby, baby nooo,_

_Like baby, baby, baby oooh,_

_I thought you'd always be mine (mine,)"_

"Shut that off!"

"What?"

Rogue hurled her pillow across the room, missing Kitty's bedside but glocking the wall pretty good. "Oh my God, turn it off!"

"Why? It's Justin Bieber!"

"Yeah! Turn it off!"

Kitty stopped her cheerful twirling and just looked at Rogue.

"_Turn it off!"_

"Okay, fine! Jeez. You have, like, _no_ taste."

Rogue sighed in relief.

"Come on," Kitty continued. "The others are probably already up, and Logan gets, like, _totally_ scary when people get up late."

At the mention of Logan, Rogue found the grogginess receding much more quickly in favor of curiosity. What exactly was it Logan did here? What exactly did _everyone_ do here? Rogue had never really heard what it was the Institute taught; was it like a school, but for mutants? For their powers and stuff? I mean, how else would the X-Men have all those weird costumes and learn to fight like that? Rogue had been the only one of the Brotherhood that was really interested in learning martial arts, and even with Mystique's guidance she knew well enough that she could never take on Scott Summers or Jean. Was this where they had learned all that?

A knock on their door drew her out of her thoughts, and Rogue realized that she hadn't gotten out of bed. The southern mutant quickly kicked off her covers and tried to stand up, but her sheets ensnared her and she tumbled onto the floor as Storm––no, it was Ororo now––opened the door and peered in.

"Oh, Miss Munroe!" Kitty gasped, hurriedly kicked the clothes on the floor under the bed. "Um, good morning."

"Good morning, Kitty," the weather witch replied, eyes crinkling in amusement. "There is no need for that… yet. Room check is not for another three days. I am merely here to speak with Rogue."

"... Oh, uh... okay."

Ororo nodded and turned to the disheveled young woman who was still on the floor. "We usually train first thing in the morning," she informed Rogue. "While you will not be required to participate today, the Professor was wondering if you might wish to observe what our training consists of."

"Uh… sure?" It didn't come out as confidently as she would have liked, but Ororo didn't seem to mind.

"That is good to hear. We begin in ten minutes."

Ororo stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. Kitty turned to give a sullen look at Rogue. "Man, you are, like, _so_ lucky. They wouldn't let me sit out unless I had, like, pneumonia or something."

Rogue didn't really know what to say to that, so she just nodded and picked herself up from the floor and disentangled she sheets from her legs. Ten minutes. Huh. That wasn't a lot of time straight out of bed. Rogue wasn't really in a position to complain, though, and so she just yanked open her duffel and pulled out her shampoo.

"Come on, Rogue," said Kitty, who was somehow already pulling on that weird black and purple costume. "There'll be enough time to shower after the training session, so just put your clothes on."

Rogue gritted her teeth. Something told her that she and Kitty were not going to get along very well. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to argue, so Rogue quickly stripped out of her pajamas and slipped into a pair of faded jeans and a green turtleneck. Her gloves were on the dresser by her bed, and she pulled them on and took a stance next to Kitty, who was in the process of putting her hair up.

"Okay, ready?"

"Are _you_?" Rogue snapped.

"Hey, no need to get mad! Let's go."

The two girls made their way out of their room and down the hallway, where Jean was waiting for them.

"Good morning, Rogue. Good morning, Kitty," she said with a wide smile that somehow did nothing to lighten Rogue's mood. She found herself mentally scoffing at the older girl's costume; what on Earth was the point of mixing black with lime green? Was it just to look like a canary? 'Cause she sure as hell couldn't see it blending in. To anything.

"Morning, Jean!" Kitty replied.

Rogue grunted, but Jean didn't turn down her smile. Great, was she going to be smiling like that the whole time?

Running footsteps alerted the three girls to the approach of Scott.

"Rogue!" he exclaimed when he reached them. "Hi!"

"Oh, um… hi." Why was her stomach flipping? Oh, no, _no_––she was _not_ going to blush. Her expression remained carefully neutral aside from the small smile she gave in return.

The air stretched and snapped with a quiet _bamf_ as the blue one appeared in their midst, and Rogue coughed and waved her hand to clear the smell of bad eggs.

"Ugh, do you always smell like that?"

"Hey, it's not like I can help it!" Nightcrawler exclaimed. "I vas up late, no time to walk."

"Where's Evan?" Jean asked the group in general.

Scott growled. "Man, if that kid's late again Wolverine is going to be _peeved_."

"_Ja_, and _ve'll_ be ze ones he gets mad at!"

Their irritation was interrupted by Spyke streaking down the hall, skateboard in one hand and helmet half on. Rogue raised an eyebrow. He was bringing a _skateboard_ to training? What kind of training were they doing? And for that matter, _where_ were they going to do it?

"Sorry," Evan said breathlessly.

"Alright," Rogue cut in. "So we're all standin' in the middle'a the hall. Where exactly is this 'training' supposed to be?"

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at her. Rogue suddenly regretted saying anything, especially when Jean gave her another million-watt smile that seemed even more condescending than the last. The redheaded girl turned and gestured to the wall.

"Through there."

Rogue blinked. "Huh?"

Jean placed her hand on the plaster, there was a soft mechanical whir, and then the wall opened. Rogue blinked again, and then blinked again to make sure she was seeing what she was really seeing.

The others filed into the round room beyond the wall, and Rogue stumbled after them dumbly. The wall hissed closed, and Rogue gasped when the floor began to move.

"Wait, this is an elevator?"

Scott gave her a smug smile.

"You guys have a _hidden elevator?_" Oh man, that was _so_ cool. Holy crap, they had a _hidden elevator._ Rogue was getting much more excited. A hidden elevator was pretty damn cool, but if she was any judge of distance they were going beyond the first floor and were now somewhere underground. What was underground that was so important that they had to hide the elevator?

Her breathing was short when the elevator came to a gentle stop. The door opened, and it was the blue one that stepped out first and took a theatrical bow.

"Welcome to ze Xavier Institute, ze lower levels."

Rogue might have been annoyed anywhere else, but right now there wasn't a thing in the whole damned world that could break her awe. The hallway before her was made of metal, sheet upon sheet riveted and welded together like something out of a sci-fi show. Rogue stepped out of the elevator with everyone else, but had to mantain a brisk walk to keep up when they set off down the hall. There were doors along either wall, but the group passed each of them without a second glance. The end of the hall came to a T, with another one stretching in either direction. They seemed to be making their way to a huge door, where the Wolverine––in his black and orange costume, so she didn't feel weird about thinking of him as Wolverine rather than Logan––was waiting for them beside the unmistakable shape of a wheelchair.

"There ya are," the Wolverine growled. "Yer late."

"Sorry," Evan said. "My fault."

"Right, well I ain't gonna wait for ya any more." He turned and hit a keypad on the wall, and the door groaned open. Rogue wasn't at the best angle to see what was inside, but she was cut off before she could follow the X-Men over the threshold.

"Not yet, Rogue," the Professor said. "You are not required to participate today. The Danger Room can be less than friendly to those that do not know it. Perhaps you would like to watch first?"

"Uh, right. Okay."

"Splendid." The Professor nodded to the Wolverine, who went after the X-Men. The doors closed loudly, and Rogue was left alone with Xavier.

"The control room is this way," the Professor said, wheeling down one of the halls. "I daresay it will provide a better view."

Rogue trotted to catch up. "Okay."

This hallway was not straight, as Rogue had assumed, and instead curved steadily to the right. They came to another elevator, about the same size as the first, and stepped in.

"So, Rogue," the Professor began conversationally as the elevator began to rise. "How was your night?"

"Uh… alright, I guess."

"Well, that's better than nothing."

"Yeah…"

"Kitty was quite elated by your return."

So he _did_ know about her little trip. "Yeah, she was." A pause. "Look, Professor, I wasn't runnin' away or nothin', honest, I was just––"

The Professor held up a hand.

"Rogue, you do not need to explain yourself. You are our guest, not our prisoner. You are not obligated to stay; even if you had wished to return to the Brotherhood, that is hardly something we could tell you not to do."

Rogue looked at the Professor. Not just glanced, but really _looked_ at him. That was the same thing Logan had said. The night before, she hadn't been quite sure what to think of the statement, but coming from the Professor, it seemed… softer. More passive. And the offhand nature made it sound so natural, as if it really wouldn't be a big deal if she wanted to leave. She was sure the Professor felt her watching him, but he didn't mention it. Besides, they were already coming to a stop.

The doors slid open to reveal a circular room, rather small in comparison the others in the Mansion and really not that much bigger than the room Rogue herself had slept in. It was surrounded by what looked to be control panels instead of walls, the room was surrounded by windows, and beyond those were… wait, mountains? Rogue walked up to one of the windows and peered out, but this really didn't do anything to explain what it was she was seeing. Yes, there was a forest, and they appeared to be far above the ground. Which didn't really make sense, since Rogue was pretty sure they were underground. And in New York. And this looked way too much like Canada.

"What." It was more of a statement than a question, but when she turned back to the Professor he was smiling.

"We are still underground, Rogue. We are still in the mansion."

"There are trees."

"No there aren't."

Something was very obviously amiss, so she just gave the Professor a flat look.

"It's a hologram," he informed her.

"A hologram?"

"Yes. A projected image. Those trees you are seeing are not real. They are simply appearances. An illusion, if you will."

"A hologram. What, like Star Trek?"

"In a way, I suppose." The Professor wheeled up beside her and gestured downwards, where she caught sight of two brightly-clad X-Men. Then, a second later, she caught sight of two more dashing through the trees.

"What are they doing?"

"Training. From what I understand, they are attempting to claim a flag hidden somewhere in the trees."

"Why?"

"To learn to work in tangent with one another. Teamwork is the backbone of what we do, and the Danger Room is meant as a place of exercise and the advancement of skills."

"Huh." Rogue didn't really have much more to say. She was standing over an _underground forest_ for Chrissake. With holograms and sci-fi nonsense that you only saw on TV. What was she supposed to say to _that_?

The Professor chuckled, and Rogue wondered if he'd heard her. If he had, he said nothing of it, and instead pulled away from the window.

"I have something else I would like to show you, Rogue," he said. "Though it is elsewhere."

It took a few steps backwards before Rogue was able to tear her eyes away from the window and follow him back to the elevator. The second trip was also awkwardly silent, and after a bit of glancing around Rogue's eyes landed on the control panel.

"Uh, how far down does this place go?" It was as good a conversation starter as any.

"At the moment? No more than six levels, although there are the makings of more that we've simply not found to time to work on yet."

"Wow, that's… that's a lot."

"Indeed," said the Professor proudly. "We have enough space for a great many things, and if we need more than we can built it. Building up has its limits, but the limits of building down are much farther away."

"Yeah."

And again the silence descended, dragging Rogue's eyes this way and that, dragging them anywhere but to the Professor beside her.

The elevator came to a gentle halt.

"Here we are. This way, Rogue."

They emerged into a room rather than a hallway, though there was a door on the far side. The room appeared to be a weird meeting place, with a large oval table in the center surrounded by chairs. Everything was either made of metal or simply gray, aside from the occasional flashing lights of technology and what looked like a shoebox on the table, so the entire thing still looked like a spaceship.

The Professor led her to the table and to the box on top of it. Rogue looked at it curiously; it was square and about the size of a computer box, but was otherwise unremarkable.

"What is that?"

"An offer," the Professor replied, pushing the box towards her.

Rogue blinked at him, then at the box and took it gingerly. It had a weight to it, but wasn't overly heavy. Leveling a curious look at Xavier, the young woman put her ear against it and shook it, drawing an amused smile from her chaperone.

It _sounded_ like cloth, but there was something else there, too. Oh, screw it. Rogue tore off the top, and a waterfall of black fabric tumbled into her hands. Rogue put the box back on the table, then gasped when she shook the item out.

It was a uniform. Black spandex, like the other X-Men, but different. There was a dark green chestplate and pads on the shoulders, plastic-like and malleable under her fingers.

"An interesting material, that," the Professor said conversationally. "Touch it gently and it is flexible, but strike it and it becomes hard. I wouldn't recommend testing it out against a bullet, but it will protect you from a great deal of force."

"Me?" Rogue asked dumbly. "You… this––this is an X-Man uniform. Isn't it?"

"Yes, Rogue. And it is yours, if you want it."

"Mine?" She looked back at the uniform. "You… you want me to be an X-Man?"

The Professor folded his hands in his lap and smiled kindly.

"But––but I'm one of the Brotherhood. I can't––I'm not like you. Why?"

"You _were_ one of the Brotherhood," the Professor corrected. "And if you wish to be one again, you are within your rights to leave this place and return to them. But you are welcome here. This is an offer, Rogue. You are not obligated to wear that uniform."

"No! No, I––I want to. If it's okay, I mean––I'd like to. Wear it. Be here."

His smile didn't change, but he nodded. "That is indeed good to hear. I hope…" He paused, then dipped his head apologetically. "One moment, please."

Rogue watched as he closed his eyes and steepled his fingers. A moment passed, and then his eyes were open and his hands were back in his lap.

"The others are finished," he informed her. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

"I––uh, yes sir."

The Professor actually laughed. "There is no need for formalities, Rogue," he said, wheeling back towards the elevator. "You do not need to use such an honorific."

She grabbed the torn box and hurried after him, trying to somehow get the uniform back inside. It didn't work, and the Professor had been right about the chestplate; it kept getting tougher whenever she tried to manipulate it, and by the time the elevators closed she had given up, simply folded the thing and put it on top of the box.

"We prefer to think of each other as a family rather than a unit," the Professor continued. "Yes, we train to work as a team, but learning to live with each other outside of the Danger Room is just as important. We want to be your friends, Rogue. All of us."

_Friends_. The word sent a thrill down her spine. Friends with the X-Men. With Scott Summers. It had been the forbidden fruit ever since she moved to Bayville, a fantasy she'd pushed out of her mind at Mystique's demand. But the reality of it… it felt surreal, riding this elevator in the depths of their stronghold, among them without fear of a fight.

The elevator opened, and the other X-Men were in the space in front of the Danger Room door. Spyke was in a heated discussion with Scott and Logan was scolding Nightcrawler, but Kitty saw their approach and waved to Rogue excitedly. Rogue subconsciously pulled the uniform closer to her chest. Kitty's words from the night before were ringing in her ears, almost blocking out the sound of the Professor calling for attention. The words that just a week ago had seemed silly to think about, almost like a fairytale, now pounded in her thoughts like a drumbeat. Kitty bounced over, saying something about breakfast and looping her arm through one of Rogue's. Scott smiled at her. Kurt bumped into her and apologized quickly. Logan gave her a nod. The ease, the companionship, it was almost dizzying.

_You're part of the family now._

* * *

edit: I'm sorry, but I think that this is going to be the last chapter after all. I tried to write more, I really did, but I just didn't have any more in me. Not for this one, at least. That doesn't mean I'm not writing, though; I'm in the middle of the first installment of another fic that I hope will be a bit more cheerful than this one, and will definitely be longer, so keep your eye out.


End file.
